


Caring, Sharing

by cadaveres



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Exalted Council, F/F, Friendship, Gen, Happy, Post-Trespasser, Trespasser - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-21 00:11:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4807577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadaveres/pseuds/cadaveres
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lavellan, formerly known as Inquisitor Lavellan, has been running with Sera for a while, trying their best to forget the events that happened during the Exalted Council. Sera sees them pushing back their feelings, bottling them up as much as they can; they are in denial and too frigging stubborn to accept help from others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caring, Sharing

“Too frigging stubborn.” Sera was not much about lecturing others, but she could recognize when someone was being an idiot. Lavellan had been running with her for a while, having fun with the Friends of Red Jenny, sticking it to asshole nobles who got complacent about the Inquisition not being there to monitor them.

It was fun, yeah? But Sera could see; she was not stupid. Lavellan had once been more active when fighting; magic sword cutting through enemies who got too close to their friends, lighting things with their fingertips. Sera, of course, was terrified, but she trusted Lavellan with her life, even allowing them to use their magic thing on them. “Not too much, yeah?” Lavellan would simply laugh and cover their friend with barriers, or use their hands to heal them. “I got potions for that.” But Sera liked it, how much they cared for her; it made her feel fuzzy and warm.

However, after the thing with the elfy maze of mirrors and the hand trying to kill them, Lavellan had begun to spend less and less time on the front lines and instead took a more defensive position,. “Stupid Elfy. We could have done something different, yeah? If not Dorian or Viv, Widdle would have figured something out.” Lavellan had only smiled and shook it off, obviously not wanting to talk about it, about Solas and the arm and all the shite that they had to go through because some stupid asshole wanted to reclaim “Elvhen glory” and risk all their lives in the process.

Lavellan tried hard to explain her why they couldn’t risk doing magic with their fingers. “That sounded wrong, right?” Sera had laughed; then a long explanation about focus and control and some other magic shit. The use of the staff was nearly impossible since Lavellan couldn’t find a way to balance the magic with only one hand. Sera had seen the scars of lightning on Lavellan’s fingers and arm whenever they tried to cast a spell without the staff; sometimes they smelled like charred skin. On another occasion Sera saw how they had struggled to remove some frost from their arm. Fire, she was glad, was not a thing that Lavellan liked; their fear of it was worsened by the idea of setting themselves or others on fire.

Building barriers, healing, cloaking, and swooshing out of enemies’ grasps were now Lavellan’s movements. Sera hated it; it meant that they wouldn't laugh or smirk during their fun times and why would they continue to do something that made them feel like shit?

\--

“You there, Quizzy?”

“Where?” Lavellan would retreat to their own thoughts whenever there was silence.

“Always some place else, yeah?” Sera wanted to help, but she didn’t know how to do the caring, sharing thing. Instead she would make them smile, hoping that if they did it enough they would feel it. “I asked if you were alright.”

Lavellan smiled, though instead of feeling reassured, Sera felt like shit. “It’s alright; I’ll manage.” To them it was always about managing; though nowadays it seemed more like they kept pushing and pushing bad things away instead of dealing with them.

“You can’t even protect yourself.” Sera was angry. Whenever someone didn’t get something, Sera would get angry. How could they not see how stupid it was to not accept help? They had always helped, no questions asked, they would do it; they could ask that from her, too, from others even. But not a word about it seemed to be the rule.

Sera knew they were gonna have to take charge. The caring, sharing thing was gonna have to happen. One day, while visiting her Widdle, Sera told her about it. “They say it’s fine. Fine?! How is it fine?! They don’t laugh, no smiles, no fun.”

Dagna always knew how to cheer her up. She suggested a prosthetic; Sera became too excited and began doodling designs. “They’ve got to be badass, yeah? For Quizzy.” These designs, of course, were nearly impossible to implement without sacrificing movement and functionality. “And a gift! It has to be a gift. They can’t know. Big ass surprise, yeah?”

Good thing for Dagna was that she had taken samples from the arm before, including dimensions. Meticulous notes about her research subjects were fun to take and the questions that came with the measures were even better. Dagna loved the impossible.

“An arm with a catapult that throws bees, yeah?! One right in the danglebags! ‘Ah! Ah! Bees on my balls, ah!’ Imagine that?!” Perhaps that was why Dagna loved Sera. She did nothing to discourage her lover’s rants and doodling; she rather enjoyed the drawings of human nobles with bees down their pants and in the distance the Inquisitor giving a thumbs-up. “Perfect aiming. I gotta teach them how to do that.”

Dagna kept the designs with doodles and notes that made little sense. She would write notes on top of them, or make changes to the schematics that Sera had tried to create, sometimes she would also draw small hearts and doodles of Sera fighting dragons.

\--

“It is a surprise, yeah?” Sera tells Lavellan, pushing them so they walk faster.  
“That does not explain why you blindfolded me to go up the stairs.” Lavellan struggles to keep their balance as Sera continues to push her up the stairs towards Skyhold’s main floor. It’s been months since they last step foot there, but Sera was very insistent on meeting with Dagna.

“And now down.” When they finally make it to the Undercroft, it is a surprise Lavellan only bumps their nose once against a door that they were expecting to be open. Sera removes the blindfold and tells them not to look yet. “Eyes out, Quizzy.” There’s some snickering and shuffling; Lavellan is too impatient for this; the least thing they want to do is to spend time in the places that he had once walked.

“Can I look now?” they finally blurt out, their right hand on their hip and their toes tapping impatiently.

“Now!” Lavellan opens their eyes, meeting Dagna holding a wooden box, its insides containing a prosthetic arm. It looks downright terrifying and amazing, no doubt Sera’s idea: twisted sylvanwood that resembles muscles, claws instead of fingers, a retractile piece of wood on the forearm that could work as a second staff or as a hilt for their spirit blade, and painted with golden swirls that match their Vallaslin.

Lavellan tears up. Dagna urges them to try it, to train with it, and begins explaining the perks that she included. Sera laughs at Lavellan’s tears until they hug her. Reluctant, at first she tries to push them away. “I’ll punch you if you make me cry.” But then she gives in when Lavellan adds their new arm to the hug. “I can help, yeah? We can help. Just say the word.” Sera tries her best to hide away the tears, but they’re welled up on the corner of her eyes and a big silly smile plays on her lips. “We can add bees if you want to.” Lavellan laughs, genuine this time. Perhaps the caring, sharing thing is not so bad after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I still have a lot of emotions about Trespasser so, in an attempt to cheer myself up, I wrote this. It didn't help. Send help.


End file.
